


I wonder if we'll meet again (I hope we do, somewhere in Brooklyn)

by Ambros



Series: Tumblr Prompts II [5]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Human, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 17:11:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13486044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambros/pseuds/Ambros
Summary: “Kind of hoping it will snow,” the stranger says, his voice almost drowned out by the noise of the train stopping behind them.It's only as the stranger is hopping on the train that Alec connects the dots, but he only gets to take one step before the doors close, the stranger cheekily waving at him.Alec's breathless, latewaitgets stuck in the cold and disappears in a puff of frozen air.





	I wonder if we'll meet again (I hope we do, somewhere in Brooklyn)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> It's been a while since my last fic because I've been a bit busy, but hopefully I'll find more time to write from now on :3  
> Thanks to Meri for the prompt! She asked for a Malec fic inspired by the song "Somewhere in Brooklyn" by Bruno Mars, sooo I hope you like this!   
> Let me know! I'm really happy to be back :)

Alec almost, _almost_ starts stomping on the dirty concrete to get some feeling back in his toes, to make sure his feet are still intact because he really can't tell.

His backpack is hanging off of his elbow because he doesn't want to expose his hands to the cold and risk losing a couple of fingers in the process; the tip of his nose is freezing and bright red even though he's buried half his face in the collar of his jacket.

He really wishes he'd listened to his sister when she'd told him he should probably wear a beanie and a warmer shirt and gloves and a scarf. He's not sure he even _owns_ a scarf.

He can't believe he's admitting this, but living on campus had been easier – at least as far as trains to catch and glaciations to survive go. He will never regret their small, crappy apartment in Brooklyn, not even now.

“Shit,” somebody mutters on his left, the chattering of teeth audible in the shakiness of the voice. Alec relates on a spiritual level.

“Shit shit _shit_.”

The stranger _does_ stomp his feet on the ground and Alec shoots him a quick look of sympathy – and then he does a double take. The stranger looks young, probably Alec's age; he's wearing a black beanie with a golden thread running through its length, making it shimmer under the white lights of the station, and his face is half hidden behind his hands, cupped around his mouth as he probably tries to blow hot air on his frozen fingers.

The stranger catches his gaze and half a smile curls his lips; Alec can only see the little dimple it makes in his cheek, as his hands still cover his face. There's make-up smudged around his dark eyes, a strand of hot pink hair on his forehead from where it slipped under the beanie.

“Is it bad that I'm hoping for snow?”

An incredulous smile curls Alec's lips; he scoffs and a puff of frozen air disappears in front of him: “Please don't. If it starts snowing I'll probably cry.”

Both their voices are scratchy from the cold, they sound frozen in mid air.

The stranger chuckles; the tip of his nose is red, almost as red as his ankle boots. He shrugs: “Might as well,” he says, gesturing at the ceiling; there are thin silver bands wrapped around his fingers, only half-covered by his gloves.

“If it starts snowing I'll hold you responsible and I'll come look for you and demand blankets and hot chocolate,” Alec says, and the stranger chuckles again, a soft sound he buries in his soft looking scarf. His next words are muffled by the wool: “Is it your first winter in New York?” he asks, gesturing at Alec's insanely inadequate outfit.

“Believe it or not,” Alec huffs, fully aware of the fact that he'd be blushing if his blood wasn't so busy keeping all his limbs attached to his body, “I've lived here my whole life.”

The stranger blinks twice, then says: “How did you not acquire any weather related wisdom?”

Alec bends his arm keeping his hand buried in his pocket and the backpack swings a bit higher on the ground: “Exams,” he says, and the stranger hums and nods: “That explains it,” he says, an amused smile on his lips.

A sudden, sharp clanging makes them both turn towards the rails, and the stranger bites his lower lip for a second before the lights of the train cut the deep darkness of the tunnel, he turns towards Alec and takes a step forward; he gracefully takes off his beanie, black and pink hair spilling on his forehead, and places it on Alec's head, a grin tinted by the tiniest bit of mischievousness.

Alec just blinks down at him, his ears immediately warming up.

“Kind of hoping it will snow,” the stranger says, his voice almost drowned out by the noise of the train stopping behind them.

It's only as the stranger is hopping on the train that Alec connects the dots, but he only gets to take one step before the doors close, the stranger cheekily waving at him.

Alec's breathless, late _wait_ gets stuck in the cold and disappears in a puff of frozen air.

*

Izzy frowns at him when he gets home; she's wrapped in a blanket, her hair pulled up in a messy bun. “Whose beanie is that?”

Alec blinks, his fingers instinctively reaching for the beanie. “I don't know.”

*

(It snows. For three days straight.)

*

Alec wears a thick jumper, a scarf, gloves, and the beanie. He waits impatiently in the library, clicking his pen until Jace snatches it from him with a glare, his knee jumping up and down under the table.

Jace almost literally kicks him out of the library, and Alec spends ten minutes walking back and forth in the station, spinning the beanie between his fingers.

He stops when he hears: “So. Did you actually cry?”

He turns and the stranger smiles at him; there are snowflakes melting in his hair.

Alec has to talk around his own smile: “Just a bit.”

The stranger takes a couple of steps forward, his hands buried in his pockets. “I think I owe you that hot chocolate.”

Alec says: “I think you do.”

(This time, they take the same train.)

  



End file.
